


Prompt 10: Thank You for Being Here with Me

by LadyArinn



Series: Februrary 2020 Daily Prompts [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Dead Sheriff Stilinski, Light Angst, M/M, Murder, Non-Graphic Violence, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22778020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyArinn/pseuds/LadyArinn
Summary: The Sheriff has been killed and Scott refuses to take action as is his duty as the Alpha, but maybe Stiles doesn't have to make this right on his own.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Februrary 2020 Daily Prompts [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621495
Comments: 16
Kudos: 543
Collections: SMIsaHorribleFriend





	Prompt 10: Thank You for Being Here with Me

“They killed my dad, Scott.” Stiles said quietly, eyes wild like a cornered animal about to lash out and claw its way to freedom, “They can’t just get away with it.”

The rest of the pack shifted uneasily, not able to bring themselves to look at the man or his anger, but Peter, hidden back in a corner watching the proceedings with a barely held air of contempt, couldn’t bring himself to look away.

“They said it was an accident and that it wouldn’t happen again. They’ve agreed to move on peacefully.” Scott stubbornly said, arms crossed defensively and jaw locked stubbornly.

Stiles laughed, an ugly, jagged sound that nearly everyone in the room flinched away from. 

“People who don’t face consequences for their actions don’t just magically learn a lesson, Scott! You’re just letting them get off free and clear, just like you have with every single other person who has passed through here and done something in this town.”

“If I’ve done so badly before, why didn’t you say anything?” Scott cried out, eyes going wide and hurt. Stiles practically growled at him, hands shaking from the sheer amount of anger racing through his veins. 

“I  _ have _ ! But when you ignore me I’ve just let it go but this is my  _ dad _ , Scott. And you just want to let them move on to have a free go at someone else so long as it’s someone else's problem.”

Scott flinches back, making a pitiful face at Stiles as he tried to deflect all blame. “They said they wouldn’t do anything else, so if they do that’s on them.”

Stiles snorted and swept his things up in angry, jerky moments, “No Scott, just like with every other bad guy you set free it’s all on you. Just because you don’t want to get your hands dirty or lose your sense of superiority.” He shoved his way out of Scott’s apartment, and as the pack hurried to reassure Scott and soothe his delicate feelings no one noticed Peter silently slipping out after the young man.

* * *

“What’s your plan?” Peter asked, lounging outside Stiles’ window, unable to cross inside the house with the wolf’s bane lining all the entrances and windows.

Stiles was silent inside his room, curtains firmly shut against the outside world as he busied himself with whatever was hidden away in there.

Peter’s eye caught on the bright “FOR SALE” sign posed carefully and cheerfully in the front yard, and he signed at how little progress he felt had been made over the past couple of weeks. He had thought this was going to be a tad more exciting after the scene at Scott’s, if he was honest.

“I have some connections, you know.” He called out lightly, “And I may know something about some activity up in Medford, Oregon. If you are interested, of course.”

The silence continues, and Peter can’t help his disappointment. 

* * *

The day Peter sees the “SOLD” Sticker slapped over the front yard’s sign he follows the scent of tears around the house to where Stiles was curled up on the steps of the back porch, hands fisted tightly in his hair as his shoulders hitched and shuddered with every tearful breath.

“Why do you keep showing up?” The young man asked tearfully, not bothering to look up. The only one who had continued to try after the first week of various pack members trying to get him to see Scott’s way of things had been Peter, so he didn’t exactly expect anyone else. “What’s in it for you?”

“I must admit,” Peter sighed after a weighty moment of silence spent studying the distraught silhouette of the other man, “I feel as if after my own struggles with revenge I want to help yours along. If only to see what will happen, even if it’s not seen to completion.” Because no matter how Stiles continued forward, Peter couldn’t help but feel that a piece of him would always be stuck with the compassion the pack held so dear. So when it came time for real action Peter wasn’t entirely certain which way Stiles would fall.

“I don’t know if revenge is the best word for it.” Stiles muttered after taking a few moments to digest Peter’s words. He was looking out into the coming sunset, eyes bloodshot and puffy but so hard and determined it almost made Peter shiver from the sheer amount of determination held in them. “With situations like ours, where no human law can help and the supernatural ones meant to help are too scared to… I’d say that’s a bit closer to justice, wouldn’t you?” 

Peter finds it a bit hard to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat, but manages to quirk a sarcastic smirk, “Now, I seem to remember someone being a bit upset when I was going after my own  _ justice  _ all those years ago. So upset they helped kill me.”

Stiles did something with his mouth that took the shape of a smile, but was too twisted and broken to actually be one. “You went after me and mine, Peter. If you hadn’t we wouldn’t have had any problems.” He says quietly, intently, the golden light of the sunset highlighting the haunted features of his face and the fury in his eyes, and the words sparked something in Peter that made him want to  _ devour _ .

* * *

The night before Stiles is curled over his laptop going over everything one last time, hair still wet from the shower he had taken and bruises on his throat that Peter wanted so badly to worry with his lips and teeth. He looks up and rolls his eyes at Peter’s leering, but can’t quite help the slightly pleased quirk of his lips.

All these weeks together and the young man still was so pleased and content with only the thought of being wanted. It had happened so rarely in his life before, and Peter understood that, was pleased that other people’s idiocy could benefit him so well even while it infuriated a part of him as well.

“Hey, about tomorrow…” Stiles trailed off, nervously playing with the mechanical pencil in his hand.

“Generally, people who start a conversation do so with a complete thought, you know.” Peter hummed, pretending to focus back on his book but watching the outrage bloom on Stiles’ face from the corner of his eye. 

“I want to do it myself. All of it.” Stiles snapped, angrily tapping at the side of his laptop with the pencil. “I know you’ve helped some with the planning but this,  _ ALL  _ of this, is mine.” 

Peter couldn’t help but smile at him, though it was a jagged and sharp thing. “Of course.” He promised.

He was happy to watch when it came time, following Stiles silently to drink it all in as he hunted each of his enemies down.

They were a small traveling pack of three, and they had come into Beacon Hills months ago with a promise of a peaceful stay before they would move on. Scott in his infinite wisdom had allowed them to stay with no conditions given or questions asked, and so the pack had virtually been given free reign of the town.

Sensing a weak alpha they’d done as they’d wished, generally just being annoying and partying a lot, but then on one of their drunken escapades they’d been stumbling along the highway being a rowdy nuisance. The sheriff had stopped on his way home, wanting to see if they needed help and telling them to make their way back to their hotel, and the pack hadn’t taken kindly to it.

The official story was a wild animal attack, and the casket at the funeral had been firmly kept closed since the pieces inside just couldn’t be forced to resemble the man they once belonged to.

The pack had moved on with no repercussions, continuing their drunken stumble up the west coast, and when they’d heard word of the great party going on in the woods they'd been all too eager to go to the secretive event.

There was a party going on a bit away, carefully planned by Stiles with loud thumping music and plentiful alcohol, a careful magic barrier erected to keep the crowd contained away from what was going on outside the reach of the music and lights.

Stiles didn’t let them run for long, his wolfsbane laced bullets going through their legs to slow them, and when they tried to run toward him to attack he unflinchingly shot them down.

One tried to run and managed to slip past as Stiles dealt with one of his pack mates, but before he could get too far Peter raced after with a growl, claws out as he tackled the other werewolf and held them down by their throat, claws drawing blood that began to soak into the soil beneath them.

He was almost surprised by Stiles, the human moved so quietly, face a careful sort of blank that would have weaker men whimpering from fright. He walked right up to them, unaffected as he carefully raised his gun and shot the last wolf point-blank in the head. 

The bodies were taken to the pit they had dug that day, carefully covered with dirt and then a mess of leaves and twigs to disguise the freshly churned earth. 

The morning light was beginning to crest through the trees, the party had long ago wound down, and their enemies were buried deep beneath them, so the forest was peaceful as Stiles practically collapsed to sit on the log Peter had moved to lay across the makeshift grave. 

Peter sat down beside him, and wondered what was next. Stiles had no house, no friends, no family, nothing calling him back to Beacon Hills. The man was free to do as he wanted, and then what would Peter do? He’d liked having this sense of companionship again the past couple of months, this feeling of belonging with and wanting to be with another person.

His spiraling thoughts were interrupted when Stiles sighed, tipping over to rest his head on Peter’s shoulder as he sagged into the older man, weary now that he had a moment to rest.

“Thanks.” He mumbled, and Peter decided to not interrupt the moment with his worries and fears.

So he sat as Stiles dozed, and watched the sun rise peacefully upon them.


End file.
